


Forever

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (idiots), @ Dabb: get pranked slut, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angel Healing, Blow Jobs, Destiel is canon, Explicit Sexual Content, Healing, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love, M/M, Making Out, Multiple Orgasms, No Lube, Nudity, Oral Sex, POV Castiel, Requited Love, Romance, Rough Sex, fuck the finale, guess Castiel's dick is the rusty nail, let them love and fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27655112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Castiel is back from the Empty, and he goes to Dean. He'll always go to Dean.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel
Comments: 16
Kudos: 239





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I wrote a fic to say thank you to Supernatural the other night, but now the pain hit, so anyway, fuck homophobia, and fuck mega corporations, and let Castiel fuck Dean.
> 
> If you want to cry while reading this, I recommend listening to "I Found" by Amber Run, "Writings on the Wall" by Sam Smith, and "Find You" by Ruelle.

The first thing Castiel did was see Dean. In his heart, his mind, his Grace, there was no other right thing to do. Did Dean love him back? Did it really matter? Because Castiel loved Dean. That’s what was important.

Still, he was afraid. Afraid of what Dean would say, what he wouldn’t say…

Yet it was a fear that couldn’t hold him back. There was nothing strong enough in this universe to hold him back from Dean.

So he went to Earth. He went to the bunker, constantly feeling, feeling, feeling… Dean. Dean praying to him. The prayers were wordless, just aching, empty wants and needs. They echoed out through the cosmos, leading Castiel right to him. Even without the prayers, Castiel would have found him. This was Dean Winchester. In this universe, he’d always be there for him.

Dean was asleep in his room, empty beer bottles lying in the bed with him, when Castiel found him.

He stood there in the dark, his angelic Grace making it so he didn’t need a light to see the man he loved.

The man he loved.

How was it even possible?

Castiel was an angel, a celestial entity. He wasn’t supposed to _feel_ , wasn’t even supposed to be his own self. Dean had taught him the wrongs of that, taught him that Heaven wasn’t truly the paradise all the propaganda had said it was. It’d been wrong. The angels had been wrong. God had been wrong.

Castiel was an angel, and he loved. He loved his family, he loved his friends, he loved this poor man that lay in his bed, dreams like a siren, a beacon — _Castiel, Castiel…_

Castiel walked over, and he cradled his face in his hands.

Dean didn’t wake.

Castiel went into him, his Grace glowing golden-white in the room, and he healed what he could. He healed the alcohol poisoning that was sinking into his liver and pancreas. He healed the dehydration. He healed the hangover.

Dean’s breathing evened out, the sweat on his skin dried, and he sighed. It was almost a peaceful sigh. Almost. But there was still that ache in his heart, the pain in his soul.

Not knowing what else to do, knowing Dean would probably shoot him just to make a point if he didn’t wake him up, Castiel gently caressed those dreams, soothing them.

His deaths in Dean’s mind beat like a wild thing, and Dean groaned from Castiel’s touch on them. He shifted, and Castiel just held onto his beautiful face, looking at all those freckles, the sharp cheekbones, the cupid’s bow lips, the slightly crooked nose, the strong brow. Perfection. Everything about him was perfection.

The dreams turned into something disappointing, unsatisfying. Castiel barely dared to guess what it could be, barely dared to hope.

But with Dean healed, and somewhat soothed, he knew there was no harm in waking him. He knew he _had_ to wake him.

Castiel used his Grace to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. It bathed Dean in a golden glow, something Castiel could describe as _holy_.

“Dean,” Castiel gently murmured, interrupting the sounds of Dean’s breathing. “Dean.”

He caressed his face, a hand going into his hair, not caring for the stickiness and oil of the dried sweat. This was Dean. Castiel could never be disgusted with him, with how human he was, how real, how alive.

Being human — it was something Castiel quietly found himself wanting in that moment. But that would run the risk of him dying before Dean… again, of having Dean have to suffer _again_. And Castiel wouldn’t know what he would do if Dean died before him, and all he was left to do was to live and grow old. What was the right way to do this? Was there a right way?

 _Love,_ he told himself. _Just trust your love._

His doubts washed away, replaced by tender care as Dean shifted. “Mm?”

“Dean, I’m here.”

“Cas…” Dean mumbled.

“Yes, it’s me. It’s okay. You can wake up now.”

“Hmm?”

Dean’s eyes slowly opened. They were wary with sleep, slightly glazed, still stuck in the deep caresses of quiet exhaustion. The haze slowly cleared, Dean blinking it away. Then his chest began to heave, breathing hard. His jaw clenched, his eyes widened, his nostrils flared.

Castiel thought he wouldn’t be able to breathe upon seeing those eyes again, but it was as if he couldn’t get _enough_ air. His shoulders rose and fell with his heavy, desperate, pleading breaths, looking at Dean, waiting…

Dean’s eyes lined with tears, the burn making his throat bob up and down.

Before he could cry, Castiel pulled Dean into his arms. His friend, his family, his love, was like a limp doll in his arms. His muscles were weak, surely from disbelief.

Then, all at once, Dean was holding Cas tighter than Cas had ever been held before. They pulled each other closer, ending up with Castiel all but straddling Dean on the bed. They were crying, tears wetting each other’s clothing.

Castiel buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, breathing in his life, his warmth, everything about him.

Dean seemed to be doing the same. And he was tense, shaking.

“Dean?” Castiel asked.

“Oh my god,” Dean murmured. “Oh my god.”

Then Dean pulled away slightly, and he punched Cas on the chest. Not really hard, just enough to show he was upset.

Tears traveled from his red-rimmed eyes as he looked him over.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again,” Dean said. “ _Ever._ You hear me? Cas, I… Cas, I was losing my mind. I thought—I thought… how could this angel… love me? I—I thought you didn’t have the equipment, or you didn’t understand. And I… I guess I still don’t understand. But fuck, Cas, you _suck_ at goodbyes. It hurt, man. _It hurt._ ”

“I know. I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.”

“Then what do you want me to say?”

Dean’s lips trembled, his mouth open, jaw slack. He swallowed roughly. Tension lay thick in the room.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, voice like that of a small child. “Please say it again. Say—”

“I love you,” Castiel easily finished.

Dean sobbed, and he fell into Castiel. Castiel held him, caressing his back, his shoulders, up to the nape of his neck, through his hair. His hands just roamed of their own accord, needing to feel all of him, to know this was the human his heart had chosen for him to love. And to let Dean know that he truly did love him. There would be no turning back, no undoing it. There was just this.

Dean held him so tight he thought he heard his ribs creak, and his breath was pummeled out of him. And Castiel loved it. He loved being held like that, being held by _Dean Winchester_.

“C-Cas… Cas, I love you, too.”

Castiel’s fingers curled in Dean’s green Henley, and he shifted his thighs about him. If he could he would hold this one beautiful human there forever.

“God, I-I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t know I _could_ say it. And then you… and then you… _Cas_.”

“It’s okay. I’m here, Dean.”

“Oh my god.”

Castiel moved atop Dean, and laid him back down on the bed. He had to show him, had to let him know that it was alright. It was all okay. Dean was allowed to love. That pain he’d carried from the too-young age of four didn’t have to be there anymore. It could be washed away. It was alright.

Dean was shuddering beneath Cas, looking up at him in awe, blinking away tears. He swallowed roughly. “Cas.”

Cas just set to taking his coat off, and his suit jacket. He set to work on his tie. Dean’s breathing changed, shallow, and hard.

“Are we really—?”

“Do you want to?”

“Cas, I’ve never wanted anything else.”

Dean surged for him, and their lips met.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. How could it be when they’d loved and lost for twelve years? When Castiel had rebelled against Heaven, and turned from what was supposed to be his family, and he’d given everything to Him? When Dean had been used, and tortured, and left alone?

When their mouths met, the lights in Dean’s room flared bright, the electricity in the bulbs sparking and whining. Castiel tried to not let them blow out. But they did. And the lights in the hallways blew out, the lights in the library, the war room. Everything crashed around them, and Dean’s lips were against his. Castiel heard the click and buzz as the emergency power came on to bathe the halls in red. It didn’t matter. They kissed as if they were trying to fuse, to become one. It was bruising, desperate, filled with every desire that had ever trickled through their blood and made a home in their hearts, in their bodies. It was everything that was right in the world.

Dean was groaning, hands roaming over Castiel. His tentative, fervent mood from earlier had completely transformed into one of pure desperation. And he seemed to know that he could have this.  
Castiel could have this.

Their mouths fit perfectly, Castiel feeling like this was the first time he’d ever kissed another being. Dean tasted like beer, and his warm breath. His lips were soft, and wanting. And when they began to suck, to bite, to lick into each other, Castiel found himself groaning as well, unable to pull back.

He was beginning to wish he’d just shown up naked. Life would’ve been easier that way. It wasn’t like Dean hadn’t seen him naked before, anyway. And Castiel knew what Dean looked like. He knew what every part of him looked like, and felt like, down to every last particle, to his very marrow, his blood cells, the deepest, most human parts of him. Castiel knew Dean’s body, yet touching him now, he was learning it in an entirely different way.

He was wholly swimming with the taste, and touch, and scent of him, his burning insides chanting, _Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean…_

Castiel bit Dean’s bottom lip, pulling on it, sucking, working it between his teeth.

Dean shifted up into him, and Castiel stiffened at feeling hardness pressing up against his thigh.

That got Dean to pull back.

His eyes were wide with terror, so big, and vulnerable.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

Castiel pushed him back, and continued undressing, growling out, “Don’t be. Don’t you ever dare be sorry for what you want, Dean Winchester. I won’t stand for it.”

“Cas…”

Castiel got his tie off, which had gone all askew from Dean’s touch. His lips burned with a sensual heat, and his core felt tight. Dean gripped his thighs, scratching longingly at them, as he watched Castiel continue to bare himself.

When Castiel had finished with the last button on his shirt, Dean reached a hand up, running it over the planes of his abdomen, and his chest.

“Is this real?” Dean asked.

Castiel was honest as he said, “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

Dean’s touch plunged an ache into him, and it had blood filling and hardening, arousal sore and biting in him. His nipples were sensitive and peaked against the white fabric of his shirt brushing against them, and right up against Dean… right up against Dean, he was harder than he’d ever been. And it wasn’t strange. It wasn’t something to question. It was just what was.

Castiel found himself pressing into him. Dean groaned, and gripped Cas at the hip.

“Okay, fuck. This is real.”

They laughed, and Dean’s laughter was the most beautiful sound in the world.

Castiel shrugged his shirt off, and started on his belt. He ground down against Dean, Dean shifting his hips up into him. Their movements were slow, powerful. Dean twitched against him, his considerable length searing him even through their clothes.

Dean eventually sat up and pulled his shirt off, and he and Castiel were kissing again, touching. Their mouths went everywhere, and Castiel was content when he had Dean lying back on the bed, and he was standing in between his legs, feet on the floor, one of Dean’s nipples in his mouth.

Dean’s legs were around him, holding him tight, strong, muscular thighs keeping him trapped. Castiel had been trapped by him years ago. He always would be. This was what he wanted, and needed, and deserved. And loved.

It was painstaking to pull back, but he needed his clothes off. He needed all of his skin against Dean’s, already learning the power of his touch, the comfort.

Dean took the opportunity to shuck the rest of his clothes off as well. And then Dean stared as Castiel stood before him. His green eyes were hot, heavy with a desire that looked like it was burning through his very being. And in the center of that desire were the words he’d said: _I love you, too._

Dean licked his kiss-swollen lips, Castiel doing the same.

There was a question hanging in the air: _What do we do now?_

Castiel had already bared his heart, his Grace to Dean. This was Dean’s choice now.

The love of his life had his gaze travel lower on his body. A shudder went through Dean, a small, needy sound leaving him. Then he let out a low whistle.

“Wow, I’ve been an idiot,” Dean admitted. “All these years thinking… thinking you didn’t — _couldn’t_ — feel the way I did, the way I needed you to. Yet, here you are, and here _that_ is.” Dean vaguely pointed in between Castiel’s legs, and Castiel laughed. “Fuck, dude, you’ve been that hung the entire time?”

Castiel couldn’t stop laughing, smiling wide, and he fell into Dean, and Dean laughed.

Dean shoved at Castiel, a silent plea for him to let him up. And when he got up, he got on his knees.

Castiel whined. “You don’t have to do this,” he told him.

“Are you kidding? The dreams I’ve had about this, the thoughts… Cas, I have wanted this for a long time.”

“And you’re okay with wanting it?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. I said the _l_ word.”

“Love?”

“Love.”

“And you—”

“Shut up.”

Dean took Castiel in his hands, and brought him to his mouth. Castiel tried to hold in a shout, tried to not grip Dean like he was the only thing in the world. But he did. Oh, he did. And as he did so he threw out his Grace like a blanket around Dean’s room, remembering Sam. It wasn’t Sam’s time to know yet, and this wasn’t his to hear.

Castiel’s cock twitched, and he felt something leak out of him, as a burning line went from the tip of him down to his balls, and deeper.

Dean licked the head, tongue playing at his slit, making like it was trying to push in. Castiel just moaned, his legs trembling. He looked down at Dean, in complete awe that he felt the way Castiel did.

“I… I thought… I could never have you,” Castiel told him. Dean licked at his frenulum, the careful strokes searing into him. Then he started to suck him into him, and Castiel had no idea how he was fitting him. It was a wonder to behold. To see him taking him in, to feel the impossible heat of his wet mouth. Teeth grazed his skin, and Castiel nearly came apart right there. “Part of me…” Dean began bobbing his head. “Part of me still doesn’t believe.”

Dean, always better with physicality than words, took Castiel’s balls in his hand, and he squeezed, tugged.

That was enough to have Castiel gripping hard at Dean’s head, and pushing into him. And Dean _let him_. He let him push in and in, till he was touching the back of his throat, and he felt Dean convulsing around him in a gag. He tried to pull back, not wanting to hurt him, but Dean reached up for his hips with fervent fingers, and he held him in him. Saliva dripped from around Dean’s mouth, and that mouth was all there was. Those pretty, pink lips around him made Castiel push deeper without meaning to. Dean’s eyes were watering, but he reached to grip his ass, and he pulled him towards him.

“ _Dean…_ ” Castiel groaned.

Dean kneaded his ass, and he pulled back. He was breathless, saliva dripping off his chin, as he looked up at Cas with what could only be pure ecstasy.

“Cas, I need you.”

“I know.”

“No, I _need_ you. Please… Please, please… Do what you want with me. Use me. Hurt me. Show me everything you’re feeling.”

And Castiel didn’t argue. He didn’t tell Dean he would never hurt him, because he knew that was something Dean liked during sex. All those times he’d heard about BDSM, he had never really understood, but he would try for Dean. And maybe the thought excited him.

“ _Please…_ ” Dean whimpered.

“You’re sure.”

Dean’s mouth was open, as he nodded, eager. He shifted closer to Cas, held him tighter, till Cas was groaning.

“Please.”

“Then be good and keep your mouth open,” Castiel ordered.

Dean moaned at the words, and Castiel shoved into him. Castiel was nervous at first, not knowing what was truly the right thing to do, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, or hurt him. But then it all came to him naturally. He loved Dean. He needed him to know that, to feel that. He needed Dean to be happy, to feel safe, to feel wanted, and pleasured. It was all Castiel needed, to be so wrapped up in Dean that neither of them would know where one of them ended and the other began.

Castiel found himself thrusting in and out at a fierce pace. The obscene sounds coming from Dean’s mouth and throat had fire trickling along his spine, dripping down into his core. He couldn’t get enough of him, and Dean’s hands roamed desperately, and he was thrusting uselessly at the air, crying out around him when he could.

Dean finally pushed at Castiel’s hips, a signal to pull back. Once he did, Dean collapsed against the bed.

His hands dug red marks that would bruise into Castiel’s sensitive skin, and Castiel nearly collapsed on him.

“I want you,” Dean told him, breathless, panting. His face was wet from how his eyes had been watering, and wet from saliva. Castiel felt a deep, heated satisfaction at how he looked. He looked ready. Ready for him, ready for whatever they would share together. “I want to eat you,” Dean clarified.

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean let out a breathy exhale with his voice in it.

“You just did,” Castiel said.

“And it wasn’t enough.”

Dean was surging up in an instant, a leg hooking around Castiel. He pushed at one shoulder, and turned, setting him off balance. Castiel fell, and Dean was on him in an instant, spreading his legs.

Castiel was shocked, disbelieving as Dean touched him, as his strong, calloused hands held his cock reverently, as they felt at his balls. He kissed, and licked, until he was licking lower. Castiel’s legs spread of their own accord. The groan he let out as Dean’s tongue found that ring of muscle that was so sensitive seemed to shudder and shake through the room.

His love moaned hot against his skin, and his tongue worked, and worked, and Castiel had never felt anything like it. His brain was bursting with white light, with pure, unadulterated pleasure. Was this what it was like to be high?

Castiel decided that it was.

Dean sucked. He spit on him. He licked. And he moaned out.

“God, I want all of you,” Dean moaned, voice muffled against his skin. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

And then Dean was sliding a finger into him. Castiel bucked into that finger, that waiting hand, and he moaned.

The sensation was odd, a bit jarring, but so human. It was beautiful.

Dean pumped that finger in and out of him, and then tentatively, gently, he added another one.

“ _Dean…_ ” Castiel got out. “ _Oh_ , that feels good.”

“Yeah, I know, right?”

That self-assured cockiness was returning. Dean’s fingers scissored in him, and Castiel felt his gut twisting, yearning, _aching_.

The tips of Dean’s long, thick fingers touched something in him that burst sensation down into Castiel’s core. A violent grunt left him, and his cock twitched and throbbed. Dean kissed at the base of him, sucked his balls into his mouth, and he worked him over till Castiel couldn’t think.

He just needed more of this, more of Dean.

With one particularly hard press against his prostate, Castiel growled, and then he was throwing Dean off of him. Before he could fall, he grabbed him, held him close, a hand to the back of his head. He kissed him. Dean kissed him back. They thrusted against each other, and Castiel realized he hadn’t touched Dean nearly enough. Castiel threw Dean onto the bed, and before he could breathe, he was on him, spreading his legs, lying in between them, sucking at his long, thick cock.

Dean was everything a human should be, everything Castiel wanted in a human. Everything he wanted in life. And this moment was no different. Dean’s heady musk surrounded him, leaving him high, and tingling, and so, so sensitive. Even taking Dean’s cock into his mouth, his throat, had hot pleasure singing and throbbing through him.

Dean was nearly crying, hands in Castiel’s hair, thighs tightening around him. Castiel didn’t bother to hold his legs open, loved feeling the crushing force of them around his jaw, his neck. Besides, he was too busy feeling over his body, touching everything that was now his.

Dean bucked up into him, and Castiel let him, wanting Dean in him all the way.

Dean shuddered, and let out a long, gravelly exhale once he was fully in Castiel’s mouth.

“How…?”

Castiel began to bob his head. Dean bit his lip, head twisting back and to the side. Castiel sucked him for all he was worth, loving him, loving his humanity. Dean was throbbing and twitching in his throat, so hot and hard that it was incredible. The human body really was beautiful, wonderful, a work of art. The things it could do, the ways it could show it cared…

“Fuck, fuck. Cas, hold on. Stop. I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.”

Castiel pulled back, eyes hot as he stared at Dean where he lay panting on the bed, head resting back, mouth open, lips swollen.

“I thought I was supposed to make you cum.”

Dean’s chest heaved, and he swallowed. He lifted his head to look down at Castiel, fingers caressing again. Castiel did the same, fingertips burning from the skin covering hard muscle that he felt. And then he reached up, and he felt the softness of Dean’s belly, loving it for all it was, loving this part of him that some might see as an imperfection. It wasn’t. It was truth. It was honesty. All of Dean’s body was honest.

“And I want to taste you,” Castiel went on.

“You sure?” Castiel raised his eyebrow at him, and Dean breathed out almost immediately, “Forget what I said. Suck me off. Right. Now.”

Castiel obliged. He paused in his work to lick at the entrance into Dean’s body, to spit on him, to suck on his fingers and wet them. Dean came as Castiel easily found his prostate and pressed against it, touch hard, nearly abrasive. He came deep in Castiel’s throat, and held Cas as if he could never let him go.

Castiel wasn’t sure how he’d ever be able to let Dean go.

His very want for him burned as he felt him throb and empty in him, as he felt his muscles tighten around the two fingers he had in him. Dean’s legs twitched and trembled on either side of him, his hips stuttering up into his mouth in quick, unhinged motions.

And then he was exhaling, breath long and loud, as if he was washing away all the hurts they’d felt together. With a light push at his head, Castiel knew it was time to pull back.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked.

Dean swallowed, breathless, and then he nodded.

When Castiel looked up at him, he was sweating, and a tear was rolling down his cheek. Curious, Castiel climbed up his body, and brushed the tear away.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized again.

“Dean, do you want me to teach you what happens when you apologize for no reason?” Castiel growled, suddenly angered that Dean was self-conscious, that he felt as if he had to apologize for himself, and who he was.

Never. Dean Winchester never had to do that.

Castiel barely had a thought in his head after he said those words and saw the pure need on Dean’s face. And Castiel knew Dean’s body so intimately, had known it so intimately since he’d gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, that he knew exactly what to do. With ease, he handled Dean, hooking his ankle over his shoulder, and he was pushing at his rim.

Dean was begging, incoherent. Castiel became lost in the heat of him, the feel of what he was so close to.

He started to push in.

Dean growled, and his fingers clawed at him. He bent himself at an impossible angle to pull Cas down, to bite. His mouth found his jaw, his teeth rough with him, and Castiel began to thrust, gentle, getting his body used to him. His muscles open up around him, yet he was still so tight.

He was hot, and soft, and Castiel almost stopped to question how Dean was able to handle this without some kind of lubricant.

As if he could read his mind, Dean winked at him, like he was saying, _Cas, baby, I can handle anything. I’ve done it before._

Cas didn’t go hard. He was as soft and gentle as possible, even as everything burned in him to fill Dean up till he was impaled and screaming. The wetness on his cock provided from Dean’s mouth helped, and soon, it was as if his body was pulling him in, yielding beneath him. Dean gave in to everything he thought he couldn’t have.

Castiel did the same.

Castiel pressed up hard against him, balls against his ass, filling him completely.

Dean was barely breathing.

Castiel was sure he himself hadn’t loosed a breath for a solid minute.

“That’s good?” Castiel asked.

“It’s perfect.”

Castiel began to pull out, Dean shuddering, and then Dean met him on the thrust in.

There weren’t any coherent thoughts in his head as he took him, as he held him, and showed him that they were real.

Castiel just simply couldn’t get enough of Dean. He tasted him, and he bit all over his torso, moving powerfully above him and against him.

His cock ached so fiercely he thought he was going to burst. He was hard beyond belief. And so was Dean.

Castiel felt tears in his eyes as he met Dean with sharp thrust after sharp thrust. His body enveloped him, welcomed him home.

And it screamed, it pleaded, with every sensual bit of energy it had. Dean was hard and pliant, and when Castiel accidentally slipped out of him, they easily found a new position, and went from there.

Somehow Castiel ended up behind Dean, who was now on all fours.

Words were leaving both of them: encouragement, pleading, apologies.

Castiel burned in him, and he drove as hard as he could. Dean just kept asking for more, more, _more_.

He gave it to him.

He gave him everything.

When Castiel laid Dean on his side, and pushed his legs up so he could enter him again, Dean held onto his arm like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Castiel’s cock leaked.

Dean’s cock was swollen, soft head red. And his balls were heavy, filled with cum, all just for Castiel. And when Castiel’s eyes roamed lower, he saw the way he clenched around him, the way Castiel had entered him and given him everything he needed. He was red, looking to be aching. Curious, Castiel pressed at the space between Dean’s balls and where he was now in him.

Dean bit his bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut, as he sucked in a breath. So Castiel had been right. He could reach his prostate this way, even as his cock was pressing hard against it.

Slowly, he moved in and out of him, staying as deep in him as he could. His fingers caressed, and Dean started to struggle against him.

Castiel wouldn’t give it to him. Not yet. He couldn’t. Not when Dean was so beautiful beneath him, so magnificent that Castiel would give up everything for him right then and there if it was demanded of him.

This was the man he’d Fallen for, the man he’d given up armies for.

No army could compare to the might and majesty of Dean Winchester.

And in the end, he’d given himself for him. He had saved Dean.

Feeling Dean around him, against him, watching his wanton desperation… it was enough to save Castiel.

Castiel… Castiel was _loved_. He couldn’t believe it, the thought so earth-shattering, that he did what he could with it, and he held Dean down, and made fierce love to him.

This wasn’t fucking.

It could never be that.

It _was_ love. It was love in all forms: hard, and soft, and gentle, and caring, and needy, and desperate, and raging.

A guttural sob ripped its way from Castiel as his body seemed to burst. Pleasure stabbed him, leaving an aching pressure beneath his balls. Sensation shot up from his toes, and through him, and then it was forcing its way out through the head of his cock, throbbing, and _throbbing_. In that moment, there was only Dean, and his skin against his own, his smell. There were all the things they could do together, the things they should’ve done, every position, and every act they could and would try.

Skin.

Heat.

Warmth.

Tightness.

Dean.

_Dean._

Castiel buried himself in him, thrusting with everything he had.

_Dean, Dean, Dean…_

The name came out of his mouth as a song, a prayer, “Dean!”

Dean growled as Castiel became one with him, and then his mouth opened, and the most beautiful moan left him. It turned into a sharp cry, and then he was clenching around Castiel, and he was cumming again. It was wet, and lovely. It was something so new to Castiel that he never wanted it to end. How could someone ever get used to this? He hoped he wouldn’t, always wanting this to be new. And he hoped he would, that this was all there was for them. He hoped he’d always want Dean like this, that he’d always get to have him like this.

Their bodies pulled and tightened and pushed at each other. Their frantic breaths became one, their voices mingling.

Dean was Castiel.

Castiel was Dean.

There was no disappointment when Castiel finished emptying into Dean. All he felt was a comforting warmth, and the lightness of satisfaction.

He wasn’t done yet, though.

As Castiel began to kiss his way down Dean’s body, leaving him moaning, Dean asked, “What are you doing?”

“I have to clean you up.”

Dean let him do it. Dean begged him to do it.

And when Castiel finished, licking his lips contentedly, he laid down behind Dean, an arm wrapped around him. Dean pressed back into him, and he let out a sleepy groan.

“Sorry I woke you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Dean told him.

Castiel smiled.

Dean murmured, seeming like he had the need to ramble now, “I’m glad you’re here, Cas. I’m so glad. And that was… that was amazing. That was everything. I needed you. I _need_ you. I love you. Cas, I love you. I love you…”

“I love you, too.”

Dean had a grin on his face as if he was about to say, _no shit_ , but then it faded. Sleep started to take him. His body twitched, and Castiel curled himself around him.

“You’ll still be here when I wake up?”

Castiel kissed his head, using that touch to soothe all of Dean’s fears, to soothe his own.

“You changed me,” Castiel answered. “There’s no undoing that. There’s no undoing this. I’m here, Dean. I’m here. And I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

“Forever?” Dean asked before his mouth tapered off into a yawn.

“Forever.”

So forever it was.


End file.
